


Mine to Hold

by orphan_account



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Hand Kink, Hand Worship, Jack just really likes hands okay?, M/M, kinkmeme prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I mean it, I love your hands,” Jack repeated, studying the contrast, smiling at how perfectly their hands fit together. </p><p>“They’re strong, but gentle,” Jack said with an awed fascination. “Thin, but powerful.” He slid his own fingers away to hold Pitch’s hand palm-up, fingers curling as Jack pressed the pads of his thumbs lightly into the smooth, dry flesh. “And talented,” he added with a knowing smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!To all of you who are following my other story, carry me (we all fall down), please don;t hate me for not updating, it's coming I swear! This is a purely indulgent piece from the kinkmeme about how Jack loves Pitch's hands. 
> 
> You can read the prompt here: http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2200.html?thread=3083160#cmt3083160
> 
> I've never written anything even vaguely sensual before so please let me know if this is rubbish!

As Jack dropped gently down into the lair of the Nightmare King, the last place he expected Pitch to be was napping on the nest of pillows that Jack had originally procured for himself.

(Jack needed a place to sleep when he decided to stay over at Pitch’s. As it turned out, these whims came up more often than not, and the pillows--black, always black--had over the years turned into their “room” of sorts in the spacious, maze-like cavern.)

Jack flopped down beside Pitch’s supine form, setting aside his staff as he watched Pitch’s hands, laid over his chest, steadily rise and fall.

Jack caught up one of them, entwining their fingers as Pitch’s golden eyes fluttered open. Pitch offered him a lazy smile.

“Frost…”

Jack gave his hand a gentle squeeze while running his free hand through Pitch’s feathery hair. The Nightmare King emitted a small sound that could be interpreted as a contented sigh, arching his head against the fingers carding through his hair.

Jack laughed brightly, filling the still cavern with the tinkling of icicles. “You’re just a big cat, huh?”

Pitch cracked one eye open with a frown, digging his nails into the back of the hand holding his.

Jack wasn’t fazed (he never was).  “Ouch, kitty’s got claws,” he said with a smirk. Bringing the hand to his mouth, he slowly brushed his lips over each knuckle of Pitch’s hand. Slowly, Pitch eased his grip, leaving behind little crescents in the soft skin.

Jack held the back of Pitch’s broad hand to his mouth, lips whispering against it as he spoke. “I love your hands, Pitch.”

Pitch scoffed, turning his lanky form on its side so he could gaze up into Jack’s eyes with a scowl.

“I mean it, I love your hands,” Jack repeated. He stopped petting Pitch to hold Pitch's hand in both of his, tracing Pitch’s long fingers with feather-light touches. He turned it over in his palms, studying the contrast, smiling at how perfectly their hands fit together.

“They’re strong, but gentle,” Jack said with an awed fascination. “Thin, but powerful.” He slid his own fingers away to hold Pitch’s hand palm-up, fingers curling as Jack pressed the pads of his thumbs lightly into the smooth, dry flesh. “And talented,” he added with a knowing smile.

“Tease,” grumbled Pitch, blinking away sleep.  

Pitch propped himself up on his elbows and tried to yank his hand out of Jack’s grip,  only to be reminded of the boy’s strength as he stubbornly refused to let go.

“Frost,” Pitch growled, “I would like that back.”

The boy just smirked mischievously, turning the hand over and blowing cold air down Pitch’s arm. The Nightmare King’s his whole body shuddered in response.

“And I would like to keep it,” Jack murmured, all the while rubbing small circles into his back of Pitch’s grey-skinned hand with his own cold fingers.

Pitch knew that devious look in the frost spirit’s eyes, and while he ordinarily would be up for this sort of thing, he had to protest. “Jack, they’re just _hands_.”

Jack knew the confused look in Pitch’s eyes, as well. Jack knew that the Nightmare King, for all his bluster, didn’t know how to handle being worshipped. _But_ , Jack thought as he bent his head to lave his tongue across the salty flesh, _Pitch would damn well have to learn_.

The small hitch of breath through Pitch’s clenched teeth was almost too quiet for Jack to hear, but he did, much to his chagrin. “Just hands, hmm?”

The Nightmare King huffed, pointedly ignoring the curling heat in his abdomen. If Frost wanted to amuse himself with his silly whims, Pitch wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of--

Pitch gasped as Jack’s skillful, cold tongue wormed its way down his fingers, lapping at the space between them. Pitch again opened his mouth to protest when Jack’s tongue guided an entire finger into his surprisingly warm, wet mouth.

“Jack, I--“

Jack silenced him with a gaze, full of lust and hooded longing. He slid back, those perfect teeth gliding along the underside of Pitch’s middle finger before releasing it with a soft pop.

Jack held Pitch’s hand against his cheek, nuzzling it even as a small sheen of saliva was left on his skin. Jack’s lips quirked in a small while he waited for his Nightmare King to regain the breath that had left his now-fluttering ribcage.

Pitch’s pupils were blown wide, the tiny ring of gold that banded them glowing in the darkness.

“Ja-ack Frost…” he hummed, slowly thumbing the curve of Jacks cheek, “are you trying to seduce me?”

Jack’s smirk grew, watching how helpless Pitch was as he tried to regain control through half-stuttered teasing.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Jack drawled, moving his mouth to Pitch wrist as his teeth scraped the sensitive skin, closely followed by a broad, slow lick of his tongue. “Is it working?”

The deviousness in Jack’s eyes was quickly replaced by surprise as the Nightmare King rolled on top of him, trapping the frost spirit beneath miles of limbs. Pitch swooped in for a desperate clashing of mouths, and when he pulled away, he growled out as hiss that Jack assumed meant yes before covering Jack’s neck with teeth and tongue of his own.

Jack gave their entwined hands a final gentle squeeze, noting that just like their hands, their bodies fit together perfectly when entangled.

And, just maybe, Jack’s brilliant laughter stirred something deep inside Pitch that made him squeeze Jack’s hands back.


End file.
